


Peonies

by onlyacoffee



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Art, Canon Era, Drabble, Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyacoffee/pseuds/onlyacoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That time Courfeyrac brought Feuilly flowers. It's a good thing Feuilly doesn't actually know the language of flowers...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peonies

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the wonderful [Oilan](http://oilan.tumblr.com)  
> Fic by [Vé](http://automnale.tumblr.com)

Courfeyrac knocked on Feuilly’s door on a Sunday morning.

That, in itself, wasn’t so shocking. In the year and a half Feuilly had known these students, he had learned not to expect them to stick to any sort of schedule, or mind the time of the day – or night – when they chose to drop by with important information, new pamphlets to be proofread, or a hidden message sewn in a hat.

As it was, Courfeyrac was not a wearing a hat. He was, however, holding a large bunch of violently pink flowers, and Feuilly could barely see his flushed face behind the flurry of petals and the tall leaves sticking behind his ear as Courfeyrac slipped inside Feuilly’s apartment and quickly closed the door behind him.

 ”What.. ?” 

"Do you have a vase?" Courfeyrac, priorities well in place as always, ignored Feuilly’s question. He did not stop to think of why Feuilly would have a vase and gently set the flowers on Feuilly’s desk before searching uselessly in the few drawers of his tiny kitchen. "God, it’s cold out here. And the wind! The poor flowers – water, they need water."

"I don’t," Feuilly crossed his arms over his chest and double-checked the lock on the door; Courfeyrac was already far too noisy for a Sunday morning and Feuilly’s neighbour was known to be both inquisitive and intrusive when given the opportunity to be. "There’s water in the bucket over there. It’s – it’s my washing water, please don’t put flowers in it."

Courfeyrac threw him a look bordering on unimpressed and hurt.

"Of course I won’t. Who do you think I am? No, no, I need a much smaller vase or else it will look all wrong."

He took a tall water pot Feuilly had not even remember he had, looked at it from all angles, and shrugged, seeming to deem it appropriate, leaving Feuilly to silently wonder why the way the flowers look even mattered.

"Courfeyrac," Feuilly decided now was the right time again to ask for an explanation. "What is this?"

"These, my dear friend, are peonies."

Feuilly could not have recognized the kind of flowers they were, and for perhaps the first time of his life, he frankly did not care about this new information.

"I see," he said anyway. "Explanation?"

Courfeyrac wasn’t looking at Feuilly anymore, too busy filling the cup with Feuilly’s washing water ( _dear god_ ) and arranging the flowers in the pot to the best of his abilities. More petals fell from the poor flowers, who otherwise seemed as large and full of life as before.

"Well," he said slowly, possibly catching his breath for the first time since he knocked on Feuilly’s door. "I though, hm, ah, your rooms. Could use some light?"

That they did, Feuilly had to admit. Maybe he could try washing the window himself, if his landlord was not going to do it as he had promised, but he was on the fourth floor and did not especially want to risk breaking his neck falling out. Flowers was a solution, he supposed, but –

"Why?" Feuilly scratched the back of his neck. None of it was making sense, none at all. Courfeyrac could have brought a few books, or Enjolras with him, and it would have brightened Feuilly’s day a lot more than bringing him flowers as if he were Courfeyrac’s mistress -

His mind suddenly jumped back to his noisy neighbour. "Did – oh my god, Courfeyrac, did anyone see you?"

"Oh, calm down, will you?" Courfeyrac put a hand on his shoulder.  ”No one saw, it is still too early. Even for your lovely neighbour. Now, I’ll get you a nicer vase and I will be right back. You just look after these, make sure the water is clean.” 

"Why," Feuilly repeated. He noticed the sweet smell rapidly filling the room, and it was already giving him a headache. 

"If you insist on knowing," ("I do, please") "It is that my mistress does not know that I-"

"Never mind, I don’t care anymore."

Courfeyrac grinned cheekily, and, with a gesture that would have probably looked more charming if he actually had been wearing his hat, he was out of the door as quickly as he had come in, soft petals still sticking to his coat.

 _Well,_  Feuilly thought, looking at the pink mess on his desk and heavily settling in his chair.  _I suppose I do need practice painting flowers._

**Author's Note:**

> Peonies mean wealth and honour, as well as romance and a good marriage. You can chose (or guess) what Courfeyrac had in mind. ;)


End file.
